


the marriage pact

by jamesjoyce



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, F/M, marriage pact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 01:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8825671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesjoyce/pseuds/jamesjoyce
Summary: They're sitting on Ren and Nora’s tiny couch when the deal is struck.





	1. of couches and pacts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [usoverlooked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/usoverlooked/gifts).



> so i'm not exactly sure how long this is going to be but not very tbh. i usually have more structure when it comes to my fic but, alas. 
> 
> anyway this is for libby who is a dirty enabler i love you but you are. merry christmas bb. can't wait for pyrrha to come back and for us to scream about it for 10 years.

They're sitting on Ren and Nora’s tiny couch when the deal is struck. 

Whenever Ren and Nora host a party, Jaune and Pyrrha always get the tiny (and ratty) couch. Ren had found it one weekend when he and Pyrrha had gone garage sale hunting. It's a hideous shade of puce with weird stains on the back that are covered up with soft blankets most of the time. It smells different depending on the season too. In fall it smells like pumpkin spice, in the winter like pine needles, and so on and so forth. Pyrrha has no idea how Ren does it, but she loves this couch, and she loves the fact that it’s an unspoken rule that during hang outs she and Jaune get to share it even better. 

They’re both well past tipsy, but not quite black out drunk, yet. If Nora and her punch get their way, the two of them will be soon, but right now they’re just happy and comfortable. They’re just talking, while the rest of the party goes on around them. Pyrrha and Jaune are best friends, so they talk a lot, but there’s something different about having a good conversation when you’ve had alcohol. Everything is more open and there’s no second guessing themselves. 

Pyrrha likes this too, sitting on this good smelling couch, her body right next to Jaune’s because the couch is so small, just talking, punch that’s twenty percent juice and eighty percent alcohol in her hand.

“I’m just saying,” Jaune tells her, waving his cup around. The punch sloshes dangerously, but somehow none of it spills onto the floor. Which is a good thing, because Nora would absolutely make him lick it up, as per the rules of a party foul. She’s done it before, “love sucks, is all.” 

Jaune begins staring off into the distance, thinking about Weiss, Pyrrha knows. His crush on her was huge and legendary, and he’s finally realized that he has absolutely no chance, at all. 

“It is,” Pyrrha agrees, thinking about how much she likes this dumb boy, who is kind with a good heart, who always tries his best, and cares more about people than he does about who they are and what they do. “Love is terrible.” 

Jaune sighs dramatically. “I don’t know how people find their true love in college, you know? You’re fed this, like, narrative, that you grow up, date people in high school, but find The One in college, and eventually marry them and live the rest of your happily ever after with them. But in reality, life is nothing like that.” 

“I knoooooow,” Pyrrha says. Though she wouldn’t mind living out that kind of narrative with Jaune. It’s just that he doesn’t notice her, because she’s not his type. Weiss is small and blonde and loud and goes through life like it owes her something, because she chooses to be a part of it instead of the other way around. Pyrrha is none of those things. 

That’s how she gets the idea, and also how she knows that she’s really drunk if she thinks that this is a good idea. Still, she takes another sip of her punch anyway, for courage. Worst comes to worst, she can just laugh it off. If it gets really bad she can finish the rest of Nora’s secret vodka stash that she keeps in her underwear drawer, wrapped in a black lace thing that she’d never actually wear, and make sure she doesn’t remember the rest of this night. 

“You know what we should do?” Pyrrha says, nodding for no reason. 

“What?” Jaune asks, turning towards her. They’re both wearing shorts, so their bare knees brush. Pyrrha’s skin feels so much warmer at the contact. 

“If neither of us are in a relationship by the time that we’re thirty, we should get married.” Jaune just stares at her, so she feels the need to go on, “Just for the tax benefits, if nothing else. I mean, there are a lot of great reasons to get married, not even about being in a relationship, and I was just thinking-”

“Pyrrha, you’re a genius!” Jaune says her, his face lighting up. “That’s perfect. We should absolutely do that. Pinkie promise?” He holds out his pinkie to her, and Pyrrha stares at it for a moment, before wrapping hers around his. 

“Pinkie promise,” she says, and takes another drink. Jaune does the same, and grins at her over his cup. 

“There, now we’re gonna get married. When we’re thirty. If we’re not in a relationship with someone by then.” Jaune frowns suddenly.

“It’ll never work out for you though,” he tells her. “There’s no way you’re going to be single when you’re thirty, Pyrrha. You’re so great. Seriously, one of the greatest people I’ve ever met. That’s why you’re my best friend.” 

Pyrrha just laughs, and aches at the word friend. “Oh, you’d be surprised,” she says, and gets up to get more of Nora’s punch. 

 

 

Pyrrha is sitting on Ren and Nora’s couch again, the next time the marriage pact is brought up. 

Their current couch is white, and leather, the soft creamy kind that sucks you in and makes you never want to get up. Now that they’re both successful adults--Nora the CEO of her own multimedia marketing company, Ren a pediatrician with his own practice--they don’t have to buy their furniture fourth hand at garage sales. The couch doesn’t smell like anything, but the rest of their house sure does, in the best way possible. 

Nora plops onto the cushion next to her without ceremony. “Has Jaune text you telling you where he is?” Pyrrha shakes her head, and Nora immediately pulls her phone out of her pocket. “This is partly his birthday party, you’d think he’d actually _show up_.” 

“Nora, the birthday party part is a surprise. He thinks this is just a party welcoming me back into town.” 

“Which is why he should be even _earlier_.” There’s an unspoken _DUH_ in Nora’s tone. “When’s the last time he even saw you in person anyway?” 

“Three months ago, when I was still living in Chicago.” 

Nora clicks her tongue. “That’s still a long time.” 

Before Pyrrha can say anything else, or defend Jaune, the front door to Ren and Nora’s house blows wide open. “God, I’m _so sorry_. Asher was having a crisis, and then Cherry’s mom wanted to talk, and you know she just went on _forever_ and please tell me Pyrrha isn’t here ye-” 

“SURPRISE!” everyone shouts, just to cut him off. Jaune’s jaw hits the floor as he takes it all in, but once he sees Pyrrha he zeroes in on her. 

“Pyrrha, you’re here!” he says and walks through a crowd of well wishers to hug her. Her picks her up a little when he does, from the force of it. Pyrrha hugs him back just as tightly, and laughs as she does so. There was a time when he wouldn’t have been able to pick her up at all, but then, they’ve definitely grown up. Jaune is an adult with actual _arms_ now.

“You thought it was my party, and you didn’t think I’d be here?” Pyrrha asks, laughing a little. 

“I’m just happy to see you,” Jaune says, a little sheepish now, not answering her question. He looks around the room again, and sees how everyone is grinning at them, and flushes. “I need a drink.” He notices Pyrrha’s empty drink and asks, “Do you want anything?” 

“White wine, please,” Pyrrha says, handing him her cup. 

Nora gets up too, “Let me show you the cake we got you, Jaune,” she tells him, throwing her arm around his neck and leading him to the kitchen.

Pyrrha is more than content to stay on the couch that she’s seated on until it’s time to cut cake. While they had all been waiting for Jaune, she had caught up with everyone, who were all people that she mostly knew from college or that Pyrrha had met while visiting Nora when she went to conferences around the country. This party really is about Jaune, no matter what Nora says. 

But when Jaune comes back, her wine and his soda balanced precariously on a paper plate full of party foods, he sits right next to her. He places the plate on the table and hands Pyrrha her wine, which she accepts gratefully. 

“So I got us some of Ren’s pigs in a blanket before they run out because, seriously, they’re always the first things to go. And some of those red bell pepper and olive oil on bread tapas things that he used to make in college, remember?” 

“I remember,” Pyrrha says, laughing again. “He made all your favorites because it’s your birthday.” 

“I’d rather be celebrating you coming back, honestly,” Jaune says, so easily that it makes Pyrrha’s heart twinge in her chest. He was always able to say wonderful things like they were nothing, but in the end it never meant more than what he was saying, “but I don’t mind. Free cake is free cake.” 

“Exactly,” Pyrrha says, putting one of the pigs in a blanket into her mouth. They’re so good, and Pyrrha hasn’t had Ren’s cooking in so long. Good thing, too, or else she would’ve tried to move back into the city just to eat it, completely unrelated to her job. “So, how are your students?” 

“They’re good,” Jaune tells her. “I’ve got a couple of kids that I’m worried about--standardized tests are the devil, seriously, and completely useless when it comes to measuring intelligence but hey, what do I know, right? I’m just a small cog in the educational machine and not someone that works with students every day instead of in an office, right?--but I think we’re all gonna pull through. Really it’s the parents that give me the hardest time, but hey, it’s all part of the job.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” And she is. She’s always loved hearing Jaune talk about teaching, which he’s always been passionate about. 

“So you’re here for good this time, right? You won’t be leaving us in three months for bigger and better places?” 

“No, no,” Pyrrha laughs. Nora comes by and puts a bottle of wine on the table between them, and Pyrrha smiles at her before Nora moves on with a wink. She was running low. “I’m the district manager now, and headquarters are stationed here, so I am too. I just finished moving in and putting all my boxes away a few of hours before I came over to help Ren and Nora prep for the party.”

Jaune’s forehead creases. “You should have told me, I would have helped you move.” 

Pyrrha waves away his concern. “No, no. You have school and I have looser hours right now, it’s fine. Besides, it was a fast move. I took the job as soon as it was offered to me, pretty much. I signed the contract that same day. I’ve missed everyone.” 

“We’ve missed you too,” Jaune says. “It’s good to have you back to stay this time.” 

She smiles. “It’s good to be back.” 

WIth the bottle of wine between them, there’s no need to get up, so Pyrrha and Jaune sit on the couch and just end up talking, the way they always do when they’re together again. Pyrrha always feels like she could have a hundred conversations with Jaune, a thousand, a million, and she would still feel as though they didn’t have enough.

Everyone seems to accept the fact that Jaune isn’t moving from Pyrrha’s side, so they come up to talk to them both. It’s almost like they’re the hosts of the party and not Ren or Nora, but it’s not weird. It’s more just like they’re doing this together, even though they’re technically not. 

Ren brings out the cake to them, by the time they’ve made it through a second bottle of wine together, and when Jaune blows out the candles he somehow manages to fall face first into the back half of the cake. Pyrrha laughs at the icing on his forehead, thick and yellow and buttercream, and laughs harder when he takes some of it and wipes it on her cheek, laughing too. 

Their friends, being who they are, get in on this as well, and so they’re all buzzed and sugary by the end of the night. Pyrrha is pretty sure she somehow got icing somewhere under her shirt thanks to the fact that Blake always plays dirty, but she sits back down on the couch next to Jaune anyway. 

He still has a little bit of icing on his face, but it’s mostly gone by the time most of the guests leave. Pyrrha and Jaune linger a little, but Ren and Nora don’t seem to mind, or be making any movements to get them to leave even though Ren has already slipped into his pajamas and Nora’s checking her e-mails on her laptop. 

Later, much like the first time the deal was mentioned, Pyrrha will absolutely blame the alcohol when she says, “You’re officially thirty now. I’m glad that I was able to come.” She wraps her arms around her legs, feet on the sofa. Her mothers would scold her if they saw her like this, even now, having taught her better than that. But this is always how she felt the most comfortable, especially when she’s feeling loose and free and on the edge between tipsy and drunk. 

“Me too,” Jaune says, leaning towards her. 

“Do you remember what we said we’d do if we were both single when we were thirty?” 

Realization makes its way over Jaune’s face slowly, and his eyes widen. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Of course I do. But I, I didn’t think, are you seriously single?” 

“Yes, I broke up with Skylar months ago.” When Jaune apologizes, Pyrrha shrugs. There had been no real feeling there anyway. 

“Well I’m single too! So that means that we should get married. Right now!” Jaune stands up, but he wobbles a little before falling back onto the couch. Pyrrha laughs and stretches her body out, this time putting her feet in Jaune’s lap. 

“We can’t do it right now. We can’t even drive, and it’s late! But I want you to know,” and now she’s choking up a little, emotion gripping her unexpectedly and just a little too hard. She doesn’t know why she’s suddenly become so upset, “that I do want to marry you.” She wants to say more, but can’t figure out how. Her emotions for Jaune have become so messy and tangled over the years, from her distance and their separate romantic relationships, over the fact that their lives have taken them such different places. 

And yet, here they are, on Ren and Nora’s couch again. Still best friends. Maybe things aren’t as complicated as she has always assumed. 

“I want to marry you too,” Jaune says. “Let’s do it. Seriously.” 

Pyrrha nods. “We did have an agreement. Let’s get married. Soon.” She holds out her hand and Jaune takes it and shakes, once. 

There’s a part of her, even while drunk, that hopes that she won’t remember this in the morning.


	2. of confessions and conventions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha don't expecting an update this fast to happen every time, or ever again. i just had some free time and an extra poof of inspiration. i love arkos.

Pyrrha wakes up with a pounding headache. It’s no more than she deserves, she decides, seeing as how she had basically asked Jaune to marry her and had forced Ren to call her an Uber back to her place. She’s happy she’s in her own bed, at least, and glad that she doesn’t feel the need to throw up. 

She doesn’t have work until Monday, so she’s contemplating just spending the entire day in her pajamas--a rare pleasure, one that she isn’t able to indulge in often--when her doorbell rings. She doesn’t remember inviting anyone over, though considering the night she had she might have, but she gets up and pulls on halfway decent clothes as she goes. She hopes that whoever is at the door won’t stay long enough to notice her smeared make up. 

When she opens the door it’s Jaune, because of course it is. “Good morning,” he says, sounding unfairly chipper considering the fact that Pyrrha _knows_ he had been drinking as much as she had last night. “Coffee? I hope you still like Americanos.” 

“I do...” Pyrrha says cautiously, taking the one marked _Pyrrha_ from the cup holder. It’s only then that she notices what Jaune has under his arm. Which are bridal magazines. Lots and lots of bridal magazines. A white blonde with an antiseptic smile stares up at her from under Jaune’s fingertips. 

Before Pyrrha can react in any way, Jaune starts talking. “So I was thinking about an October wedding? It’s one of the only times of the year that you can get whatever flower you want, and I know how much you like fall, so I figured that would be nice. And it’s only a few months away, which is even better, but that means that we have to start planning now to get good prices on things.” He places the magazines in the middle of Pyrrha’s bare coffee table. 

“Jaune, what?” Pyrrha can’t help herself from asking. 

“Seven sisters, remember? And, as you know, five out of seven of them have gotten married.” 

Pyrrha does know that. She had been unable to go to Juliet’s wedding last year, since it had been a destination wedding in Aruba and she had to work, but had sent her a set of plates for which she received an effusive thank you card in return. Jaune’s sisters have always loved Pyrrha, and the feeling is mutual. 

“Trust me, by now I definitely know my way around this whole wedding thing.” 

Maybe it’s because she is still hungover and a little disoriented, but Pyrrha can’t help herself from asking, “Are you sure this is a good idea? Us getting married, I mean. It was just a wedding pact. We were drunk when we even came up with it.” 

“We weren’t _that_ drunk, the first time. Or even last night,” Jaune says. For the first time all morning, Pyrrha can see him curling in on himself, just a little. He used to do it a lot more when they first met, covering it up with self deprecating jokes, but he had grown out of it. It hurts a little to know that she’s the reason he’s doing it again. “And like I told you last night, I...I want to marry you, Pyrrha. Besides, we made a promise, and an Arc never goes back on his word.” 

“Right.” Pyrrha takes a sip of her Americano and hope it covers up whatever look is sure to be on her face. “So...I guess we are doing this? For real.” 

“For real,” Jaune confirms. He hands Pyrrha a wedding magazine. “There’s a wedding convention coming to town in a couple weeks, if you’re free.” 

Pyrrha raises her eyebrows. “You really do know a lot about all of this this...wedding planning thing. Are you sure you don’t want to just go to city hall and sign some papers?”

“I mean...not unless you want to. Because I’m cool with whatever you want, seriously. But I figured, since we’re not Blake and Yang...” 

Pyrrha laughs. “No, I guess we’re not.” She rubs a finger across a glossy page full of lace and pearls and white. “I am free next weekend, actually.” 

Jaune smiles. “Good, because I already bought the tickets.” 

“Okay then.” Pyrrha takes a deep breath. “It’s a date.” 

 

Jaune sends Pyrrha e-mails with questions and wedding ideas and links to Pintrest throughout the rest of the week. Pyrrha honestly hadn’t realized how much planning went into a wedding--the venues, the food, the drinks, the location, the decision of what kind of service they wanted to hand, and so on and so forth--until the sheer volume of e-mails begins to pile up in her inbox. And this is all just preliminary planning, none of it is the real thing. 

Pyrrha had honestly never really thought about a wedding. She had never dressed up as a bride on Halloween or watched shows like _Say Yes to the Dress_ or _My Fair Wedding_ with any kind of envy, or at all. Growing up, that had been the last thing on her mind, and when she had grown up she had always figured that if getting married happened it happened, and if it didn’t it didn’t, and didn’t think much beyond that. 

Jaune, though, obviously had thought about this. It made sense, considering all the sisters he had, and as many weddings that he had been a part of, that he would have an opinion. Still, though, she was glad that he cared. She didn’t know how far she would actually gotten if he had gone about things the way gender roles dictated and made Pyrrha do everything for the wedding herself. 

And though Pyrrha doesn’t know much about planning the wedding, she still knows that she definitely wants to tell people. Starting with their friends. Jaune had wanted to start with their parents, but the thought of calling her mothers about this while it was all so fresh and new must have made her cringe without realizing it, because Jaune had immediately backed off the parent front and asked if she wanted to tell other people first instead.

The first people being, of course, Ren and Nora. Nora would have strangled Jaune if they had gone to anyone else before they had told her. Which, honestly, is fair. The four of them have been through a lot together, and Nora is still Pyrrha’s best friend even though they hadn’t lived in the same city since they graduated college. As far as she knows, Ren and Jaune were in the same boat. 

So when Ren and Nora asks them over for brunch the Sunday after Jaune’s surprise party, Pyrrha decides that’s the perfect time to tell them. October is only a couple of months away. 

“Are you nervous?” Pyrrha asks, when they’re standing in front of Ren and Nora’s house. They had ridden together, Jaune driving. He keeps fiddling with the bottle of champagne that he brought for mimosas. 

“No.” Pyrrha looks at him. “I mean, yeah kind of? But to be fair, I’m thirty-seven percent scared of Nora at all times, probably. Round it up to forty and we’re gold.” 

“They will be happy for us,” Pyrrha says, though she might be thirty-seven percent scared of their reactions as well. The idea of a marriage pact, well. Who wouldn’t be a little skeptical? Especially since they’re planning to get married so soon. But Pyrrha might be wanting to be a little selfish, just this once, if it means having Jaune, if only for a little while. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” 

Before they can say more, Nora opens the door. She’s still in her pajamas, feet bare and toenails painted a sparkling shade of pink. “Well don’t just _stand there_. Come in. Jeez, you two don’t even have to knock, really. In fact, next time, don’t knock.” 

“Actually knocking might be nice sometimes,” Ren says, sending Nora a look. She sticks her tongue out in response. “I’m just saying sometimes Pyrrha and Jaune might want to give us some notice that they’ve arrived because they don’t want to see everything that happens behind closed doors.” 

“That’s a good point.” Nora turns to Pyrrha and Jaune and says in a whisper, “You don’t really have to knock.” 

Ren shakes his head. “Do you guys want some juice? We have five kinds. And I see you brought the champagne. Excellent. I’ll make mimosas if you guys want those instead.”

“Please,” Pyrrha says, before pouring herself some pomegranate-cranberry juice. “Actually wait, before you do, Jaune and I have something that we want to say.” 

“Now?” Jaune turns to her, surprised. 

“Yes now.” Pyrrha takes a big breath. “Jaune and I are getting married. In October. A date isn’t completely set yet, but we’ve been thinking and-”

“WHAT?” Nora’s voice booms throughout the living room. Only years of being Nora’s best friend, and therefore used to her volume, keeps Pyrrha from jumping through the ceiling. 

“It might be, ah, a little sudden, but-” 

“A little sudden?” Nora asks, her volume more controlled now, but only just. She sounds more hurt than angry. “Were you even going to tell us that you were _dating_? Or that you were thinking about getting engaged?” 

“We’re not, though. I mean, I guess we’re engaged, but weren’t dating.” 

“You weren’t dating, but now you’re getting married?” Ren pipes up, glasses in his hand. Pyrrha takes one from him gratefully. It takes everything she has not to just empty the glass in one gulp. 

“Well, you see.” Pyrrha laughs nervously. 

Thankfully, Jaune steps in. “We made a pact, back in college, that if we were single by the time we were thirty, that we would get married. So now we’re just...following...through...” his voice fades a little at the look on Nora’s face. 

“How much of my punch did you have when you both agreed to this?” Nora asks. “You know for a fact that after having two glasses that any decisions or promises made after were automatically null and void the morning after.” 

“We weren’t that drunk,” Jaune says, repeating what he had told Pyrrha last weekend. “And we both talked about it. We both want this.” 

At this, Nora has nothing to say. She looks at Pyrrha with beseeching eyes, but Pyrrha just looks steadily back and tries not to fidge. Finally, Nora sighs, all of her indignation leaking out of her like air from a balloon. “If it’s both what you want then...congratulations.” 

“Congratulations,” Ren repeats, lifting his mimosa to them both. 

“Jaune, though, can I talk to you for a second? Alone,” she adds, glancing at Pyrrha and Ren. 

“I don’t think-”

“ _Now_.” Nora grabs the front of Jaune’s shirt and pulls him into the hallway. Jaune throws Pyrrha a desperate look over his shoulder but all Pyrrha can do is wave goodbye. She knows better than to get between the two of them when Nora is like this. 

Ren, for his part, just goes back into the kitchen and resumes cutting up melon for fruit salad. Pyrrha follows him and sits down at the bar to watch him work. 

“What do you think?” Pyrrha finally asks, her voice quieter than she means to make it. 

“About you and Jaune getting married?” At Pyrrha’s nod, he continues, “Well, I’ve heard worse ideas.” 

“You’re married to Nora,” Pyrrha feels the need to point out. 

Ren looks up at her, that half smile that he always gets when he thinks about Nora on his face. “That’s how I’ve heard worse ideas.” 

Pyrrha can’t help but laugh. “I guess you’re right.” She sighs. “Can you pour me another mimosa, please?” 

“With pleasure. You’re probably going to need it.” 

 

There’s a line wrapping around the convention center by the time Jaune and Pyrrha make their way there, even though the Weddingpalooza Extravaganza--the actual name of the convention--doesn’t start for another thirty minutes. 

“Wow,” Pyrrha breathes. “Look at all of them...there are so many other people wanting to get married. Are you sure we’re going to be able to find a venue...”

“We will. And if no one will let us book something with only two months to go we can get Weiss to call them and use her Ice Queen voice.” 

“She would probably be grateful that we thought to ask.” 

The line starts moving, albeit at a snail’s pace. “Uh, so the thing about the Weddingpalooza Extravaganza is that only couples are allowed to come, since they give away tons of free samples and discounts on stuff.” 

“Oh, really?” Pyrrha hums. “I guess that makes sense.” 

“Yeah, so it might be best if we pretend that we’re a couple today. Like, a full on, romantic couple and everything.” Then, without warning, Jaune grabs her hand and threads their fingers together. 

Pyrrha can’t stop the gasp that makes its way out of her mouth. She wishes that she could take it back, but she can’t, it’s already out there in the open. Jaune doesn’t seem to notice it, though, looking straight ahead. His ears are a little red, Pyrrha notices distantly. She feels kind of frozen, right now. 

They’re thirty years old, and they’re just _holding hands_ , but Pyrrha still feels as if the earth is shattering and the stars are exploding inside of her chest. His hand is so warm. She’s held hands with people before, lots of people, people that she’s actually _dated_ , but Pyrrha swears that his palm is the warmest that she’s ever felt. She feels thirteen again and giddy, like it’s the first time she’s ever liked a boy all over again. 

Jaune is the only person that’s ever had this affect on her. 

When the line starts moving again, Jaune gently pulls on her hand to get her moving. “Pyrrha?” 

“Sorry, sorry.” Pyrrha shakes her head. “Let’s go get some free stuff.” 

 

There is so much cake at the convention. There is _so much_ cake. And lace. And fondant. And jewelry. Pyrrha looks at all of it, her hand in Jaune’s, and feels totally overwhelmed. There’s just so much going on at once. Weddings are _so much_ work.

Jaune, for his part, has a binder that he brought in the satchel that he’s wearing. He has tabs separating venue, catering, cake options, and ideas for flowers. He even has a spreadsheet. A spreadsheet! All of this, for a wedding they decided to have not even a week ago. 

The aggressive organization is most likely a result of his teaching, but still. Pyrrha is in awe that he managed to find the time between grading papers and wrangling small children and socializing. 

Jaune is the one that does all the work, mostly, his binder open in front of him while he talks prices to people. Pyrrha offers her opinion occasionally, especially on the food, of which she and Jaune eat tons of, literal tons, but mostly lets Jaune do the talking. 

By the end of the very, very long day, Jaune has managed to secure a venue, catering, and the cake. Pyrrha is very impressed, and has an entire container of cake to take to Nora when they get back. She feels just as satisfied as Jaune does, though she did far less of the work. 

“That was amazing. I can’t believe you did all of that,” Pyrrha says, once they’ve collapsed in Jaune’s car. 

“I’m so glad I managed to snag tickets. They sell out so fast.” 

“There were more people here than I thought ever wanted to get married in this town,” Pyrrha says. She’s happy. She and Jaune aren’t holding hands anymore, but he’s been very physical and attentive all day. It was nice, even if it was just for pretend. She’s sure that the vendors and the staff were very convinced that they are in love with each other. 

“Honestly? Same. It’s a big deal, getting married.” Jaune’s smile gets a little doofy. “That’s why I’m so glad that I’m going to be marrying you.” 

Pyrrha feels her face heat up. “Me too,” she says finally, and means it with all her heart.


	3. of rings and children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what can i say? life happened. sorry for the delay.

Jaune’s apartment is small, but looks lived in. Pyrrha means this in the best way possible--he has art from his students on the wall, a stack of papers to grade on the coffee table in the living room, and everything is somehow cluttered but neat. A far cry from her own stark and spartan home. Jaune’s house is the kind of place that Pyrrha wants to burrow into, but actually can’t. 

Pyrrha hasn’t had much time to actually visit his apartment, considering how often she’s had to move around for work. She helped him move into his first one for graduation, but he’s moved a couple of times now, and this is the first time she’s visited. 

Jaune opens the door and tells her to sit down, messing in the kitchen with instant lemonade before he finally comes out and sits with her. Pyrrha takes a glass, grateful for the effort, and smiles. 

“Okay, so, first things first. I wanted to talk logistics,” Jaune says, after they’ve made some meaningless small talk. 

“Logistics? Of the wedding?”

“No, not the wedding. Of after the wedding. Of the happily ever after, you know.” He moves his hand around vaguely, and Pyrrha kind of sees his point. “Basically my lease ends in December, so I was wondering if you wanted to move in here, or if you wanted me to move to your place?” 

They discuss that for a while, and it makes Pyrrha realize how lucky she is to be marrying--even someone so completely unexpected and out of the blue it really is--someone like Jaune. He cares about these things--cares about doing things The Right Way, and making sure that they’re both going to be comfortable. And he wants her input on things, even if he’s the one that brings them all up. 

It makes Pyrrha’s heart warm, and she’s afraid that the mammoth sized crush that she had on Jaune in college, which is something she had managed to bring down to a smaller, more respectable size, like a gazelle, come back to life, roaring.

“And the other reason I asked you over here is,” at this, Jaune looks a little sheepish. He brings up one of his hands to rub at the back of his neck, and his ears are bring red. “Hold on, let me just go get it.” 

“O-okay?”

Jaune comes back to the couch with a small black velvet box in his hand. A lump suddenly grows in Pyrrha’s throat. She doesn’t know what to say, and if she does manage to speak, she’s not sure what will come out of her mouth. Nothing good, she’s sure. 

“Sorry, I know this is kind of silly, after everything, but. My mom gave this to me after I graduated college, and I know that this...thing...between us is supposed to be all legal and nothing more than that, but. I figured it was important. Also, my sisters would skin me alive if I married you but didn’t give it to you.” 

Pyrrha opens the box slowly, as if whatever was inside was going to jump out at her. Lying in the box was a ring, innocent, non sentient, beautiful. The band is gold and the diamond is a pear cut in the middle of a cluster of garnets on either side. It’s gorgeous, and Pyrrha could feel the tears make their way from her throat to her eyes. 

“It’s beautiful,” she manages to choke out. She takes the ring out of the box, holding it in her hand, but unable to put it on just yet. 

“It was my grandmother’s,” he confesses softly, looking at Pyrrha’s hands but not at hers when her head snaps up. 

“Oh, Jaune, wouldn’t you rather-” _Wouldn’t you rather this ring go to someone you care about? Someone you love?_ Pyrrha can’t force herself to say the words. 

“There’s no one I’d rather have this ring, than you,” he tells her, his face open and sincere when he finally manages to look her in the eye. 

Pyrrha puts the ring on her finger, and hopes that he never regrets saying that. 

 

When Jaune calls Pyrrha late on a Wednesday night, she figures it’s something to do with the wedding. Long gone are the days that Jaune could pull an all nighter and somehow manage to be in a decent mood the next morning. Pyrrha knows that Jaune goes to bed before midnight every day now that he’s a teacher, if only because Pyrrha has heard Nora make fun of him for it. 

This is why, when Jaune asks “Would you possibly be able to come for career day on Friday?” Pyrrha’s honestly shocked. 

“I mean, probably?” Pyrrha tells him, rummaging around her briefcase for her tablet so she could check her schedule app. “I don’t think I have anything too terribly pressing.” 

“Thank God,” Jaune tells her. “You don’t know how bad I feel about making you do this, seriously, but one of the parents backed out last minute and it’s been hell trying to get a replacement.” 

“I’m glad that I’m able to help you out then,” Pyrrha tells him, and he laughs. 

“Plus, it would be really cool for the kids to hear from a former Olympian. I think that might be the coolest job that I’ve ever had at one of my career days.” 

“Oh, you want me to talk about being a professional athlete.” Pyrrha tries to hide how disappointed she feels, but even through the phone Jaune manages to pick up on it. Sometimes, Pyrrha wishes he wouldn’t. 

“You don’t have to, of course,” Jaune is quick to reassure her. “You can talk about whatever you want. I just thought that you might enjoy talking about it to the kids, since it’s something a little different.” 

“No, no, you’re right. Track and field is way more interesting to children than a district manager of anywhere and anything. Of course that’s what I’ll talk about.” 

“Pyrrha, really, if it’s too-”

“I don’t think I know where I put my cleats this move,” Pyrrha says, not wanting to hear the rest. “The kids would want to see them, don’t you think.”

There’s a long silence on the other side of the line before Jaune sighs and says, “Yeah, they’d love it. They always enjoy presentations more when there’s a physical element to them.” 

“Great,” Pyrrha says, now thinking about where on earth she would have put them. The garage, maybe? Or the attic? The house the company had set up for her is so big, especially because she’s all alone, and so everything is half empty and a little lonely. She is not enough to fit the space by herself. “So Friday then?”

“Friday,” Jaune confirms. “But Pyrrha?”

“Yes?” she asks.

“The kids would love you even if you were just a district manager.” He says a quick goodbye and hangs up the phone before Pyrrha could say anything else. 

 

Pyrrha has an early meeting on Friday morning, but as soon as that is done she’s free for the rest of the day. The school that Jaune works at is on the other side of town, and when she’s walking through the parking lot she sees Ren and waves to him. 

“He got you too, huh?” Ren asks, and sighs. 

“Yes, but I don’t really mind. It’s kind of nice. Kind of like how we used to do community service back in college.” 

“He asks me every year because of the whole doctor thing. Something about how it’s just standard and an ideal or something, I don’t know. He asked Nora once but she basically just gave them all punch that produced a classwide sugar high and a bunch of glitter stickers so he’s never asked her again.” 

Pyrrha laughs at this. Ren lets her go into the office first to get her visitor’s badge, before leading her to Jaune’s classroom. There are a couple of adults already in Jaune’s room--actual parents, Pyrrha guesses--but when he sees them both he sighs in relief. 

“Okay, kids,” Jaune starts, clapping his hands. The kids quiet down, for the most part, and all look at him expectantly. “Career day is officially going to begin now. Let’s all put on our listening ears and clap to thank everyone for coming.”

The kids clap, as he tells them to, and Pyrrha sits in one of the adult sized chairs that are offered to listen to one of the parents talk about his job in finance, and another as the foreman of a factory. Ren goes and Pyrrha listens as he talks about how he had to go through so much school and lets the kids touch his stethoscope. 

The kids are listening well, for the most part, though by the end they’re starting to get just a little antsy. They’re young, only second graders, and this is a lot. Jaune’s a good teacher, and they clearly like him, if the way they all sit up straighter to listen to him talk as he introduces each person is any indication. 

When it’s finally Pyrrha’s turn, Jaune says, “And this is Ms. Nikos! We’re going to be getting married soon, which is why I’m going to be taking a whole week off in October. Remember me telling you guys about that?”

Most of the class nods, and Pyrrha feels the strange sensation of many tiny eyes scrutinizing her very keenly. “Hello there,” Pyrrha says, and waves awkwardly. She trained for public speaking for a long time, but kids are different. She clears her throat. “A long time ago, I went to the Olympics.” There are a few gasps, and Pyrrha can feel herself start to smile. Normally she doesn’t like to talk about this, likes to put it all behind her, the same way she had put her injury behind her, but with kids it’s different. They seem to genuinely care about the sport for what it is, and not just what comes along with it. 

She takes her cleats--found, strangely, in the second floor bathroom--and passes them around and talks about what it’s like to be in the Olympics. All the early mornings, the traveling, the sacrifice. Her mothers hadn’t even wanted her to go to college, insisting that she train instead, but Pyrrha had ended up convincing them that she could handle both. And she had, for the most part.   
Everything had gone perfectly and according to plan, until it hadn’t. Pyrrha would never admit this to anyone, but when the doctor had told her that she would never run competitively ever again, the first feeling that had flooded her entire body had been _relief_. It had been relief, and then everything else. 

But these kids are only seven and eight, so they don’t need to know that. 

The kids clap when she’s done, and Pyrrha smiles, pleased. Afterwards there’s a party that the kids put together, bringing chips and cookies and cupcakes and two liter bottles of coke, that she and the other stars of Career Day are meant to have. 

“You were a hit,” Jaune says, once he’s managed to pass everything out and got the kids situated in their desks with little plates of snacks. 

“Thank you,” Pyrrha says, pushing back some of the hair that’s’ fallen into her face behind her ear. “This was fun. If you ever need help again, just say the word.” 

“I will. But really, thanks for coming in on such short notice. And thanks to you too, Ren, for coming in every year without fail.” 

“Kids love a big white coat,” Ren tells him. “I couldn’t disappoint your students like that. If I didn’t come who knows what would happen.”  
Jaune laughs. “True,” he says. 

On the way to the row of desks that’s now holding up the food, one of Jaune’s students comes up to where the three of them are talking suddenly. She stands there, waiting until they’re all looking at her. She’s cute, short with big dark eyes and curly dark hair that’s barely contained by her headband. “Are you _really_ going to marry Mr. Arc?” she asks Pyrrha, something like disbelief coloring her voice. 

Pyrrha lets herself smile. “Yes,” she says.

“Mhmm.” She says, before turning to Jaune. “This lady is way too pretty for you,” she tells him, before walking away to get more chips. 

Ren’s eyes brighten, and he gets his phone out of his pocket. “Nora is going to _love_ this,” he says, already typing. 

“Well,” Jaune says after a moment. “She’s not wrong.”


	4. of parents and more parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will only have one or two more parts. i'm not sure yet. i hope you're enjoying this!

Jaune’s just gotten done making them dinner--risotto, actually, he’s gotten so much better since college. It’s still strange to Pyrrha, knowing these things now, after all the distance that had been put between them for so many years--when he drops the bomb. 

“So...the wedding’s in a month and I think...” he trails off, glancing away. Pyrrha continues to look at him, trying to keep her expression light, even as dread drops in her stomach. “I would really like to tell my parents that we’re getting married,” he says finally. “Everyone else knows and I just don’t feel right, with them not knowing.” 

“Oh,” Pyrrha says. She finishes her glass of white wine before continuing, “you should definitely tell your parents.” 

Pyrrha likes Jaune’s parents. His dad has a dry sense of humor that could keep Pyrrha in stitches for days, and his mom is one of the genuinely nicest people that Pyrrha has ever met. Jaune’s sisters are great too. They’ve always been so nice to her, all seven of them, and she’s always been grateful for that. She doesn’t mind letting them know that she and Jaune are getting married, as strange as the arrangement is. 

It’s just...if they tell Jaune’s parents, then they have to tell Pyrrha’s too. Pyrrha doesn’t know if she can deal with that, really. Telling her parents about any of her life decisions has always been terrifying. She’s thirty now, so she shouldn’t be scared anymore, but she is. Her mothers love her, she knows that, but telling them anything has always made her feel vulnerable, and they always know where to attack right where it hurts the most. 

“I was thinking about going up to see them this weekend and telling them then,” Jaune tells her, “if you’d like to come with me? It would probably sound better if you came too.” 

“I would love to,” Pyrrha says, genuinely meaning it. Jaune’s childhood home is as unlike hers as it could possibly be. It’s a yellow farmhouse, stuck in the middle of rows and rows of whatever’s in season. Right now it might be broccoli, maybe. She’s always thought of it as her life’s the Burrow, though she’s only been a handful of times with Jaune and Ren and Nora, after he’d learned that Ren and Nora had nowhere to go for holidays. 

“Great, I’ll call and tell them then,” Jaune says, grinning. “Mom’s going to be so happy to see you again.” 

 

The drive to Jaune’s childhood home is four hours, but other than the cramps in her leg for sitting so long, Pyrrha barely realizes that it’s takes that long. 

Jaune’s mother comes out to meet them, dishtowel in her hand when she hugs Pyrrha first and Jaune second. “Pyrrha, it’s so nice to see you again! I made your favorite pumpkin cookies when Jaune said that he was bringing you down with him.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to-” Pyrrha tries, but Mrs. Arc just shakes her head. 

“Don’t be silly. Of course I know I didn’t have to, I wanted to. You’ve always been such a dear,” she says, before turning to Jaune. “And you. I see you haven’t been feeding yourself right.” 

“I have!” Jaune says. “But nothing’s better than your food, of course.” 

“Of course,” she agrees, smiling when she offers her cheek up to kiss and Jaune pecks it lightly. 

“Where’s dad?”

“Oh, he’s out at the barn, but don’t bother going out there he said he’d be back soon. Now, Pyrrha, tell me all about your new job. Jaune says you moved into town for it a couple of months ago?” 

“Yes, I did,” Pyrrha says. “I’m enjoying it a lot.” 

They talk about Pyrrha’s job until Mr. Arc makes his way through the door, toeing off his boots outside before coming in. “Pyrrha,” Mr. Arc says, even though it’s more like a thunder boom than anything. If there’s one word to describe Jaune’s dad it’s _loud_ , but not in a threatening way. More in a friendly, fun way. Pyrrha likes him a lot. “You haven’t come around here in so long. It’s nice to see you again.” He moves in for a hug and Pyrrha slides into it easily. He’s a little sweaty and damp from working outside all day, but Pyrrha doesn’t mind. 

“Go clean up for dinner and we can get started. Jaune and Pyrrha, would you set the table please?” Mrs. Arc calls after giving her husband a kiss on the cheek. 

By the time Mr. Arc comes out in a different shirt, his face shiny and pink, the table is full of Jaune’s favorites. There really _is_ nothing better than Mrs. Arc’s cooking. Even Ren has said so, and that’s not a compliment he gives out lightly. 

There’s mostly quiet when everyone’s eating at the beginning of the meal, but then Mrs. Arc says, “Jaune, you said you had an announcement to make? With Pyrrha? Please don’t make me wait any longer.” 

“Well,” Jaune puts his spoon down into his mash potato mountain. “Pyrrha and I are getting married.” 

For a moment there’s silence, and Pyrrha’s throat closes up. She can’t help but think that maybe Jaune’s parents don’t think that she’s good enough for Jaune, romantically. Or maybe they don’t want her in the family. These things are ludicrous, of course, but Pyrrha can’t shake them in the silence that stretches between everyone sitting at the table. 

And then Jaune’s parents react. 

“Welcome to the family,” Mr. Arc says, and he gets out of his seat to hug Pyrrha again, and then Jaune. 

Mrs. Arc brings her hand to her chest and keeps repeating, “Thank God.” Pyrrha’s not sure, but she thinks that Mrs. Arc might be crying a little. 

“You gave her Grandmammy’s ring, right?” Mrs. Arc asks, once things have settled down a little. 

“Of course,” Jaune nods. 

“This is so exciting,” Mrs. Arc says, laughing a little now. “Please let me be the one to tell the girls, they’ll all be so happy.” She pauses. “But when did you two start dating? And why didn’t you tell me you were!” 

Here it comes. Jaune laughs a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hah, well you see. It’s not. It’s not really like that. Pyrrha and I aren’t...together together.” 

“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Arc says. “You’re getting married, but you’re not romantically involved?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha throws in, because she knows that Jaune doesn’t need to carry all of this on his own. “It’s not necessarily something romantic as much as practical.” 

“And this is what you want?” Mr. Arc asks. 

“Yes,” Jaune says, and his tone brooks no room for argument. “This is exactly what we want.” 

There’s another beat of quiet. Mr. and Mrs. Arc exchange looks across the table that Pyrrha can’t read. And then Mrs. Arc says, “Well, if that’s what you want then...we’re happy for you both. Now please, tell me all about the wedding plans. I want to know everything.” 

 

Pyrrha gets thirsty around midnight and goes into the kitchen for water to find Mrs. Arc making tea. “Hello, dear,” Mrs. Arc says. “Would you like a cup?”

“Yes, please.” 

The tea was imported from somewhere, Pyrrha can tell from the box, and the way it tastes. She finds it strange to think about Jaune’s mom liking expensive imported tea, but then, Jaune’s mom wasn’t always Jaune’s mom. Pyrrha savors the taste in silence, and waits for Mrs. Arc to speak. 

“Jaune is a good man,” she starts, stirring her tea with a spoon. “He has a good heart, and he’s kind. But he can be blind to other people’s feelings, sometimes.” 

Pyrrha sat still, unsure of where this was going. 

“I guess what I’m asking, Pyrrha, is: is this what you want? Is marrying Jaune without a relationship is what’s going to make you happy?” 

“Yes,” Pyrrha says. She smiles and it feels shaky, like an unsteady thing. She pushes through the feeling anyway. “I really think so.” 

“Okay,” Mrs. Arc says. “If you’re sure. I just wanted to make sure you were happy, I don’t mean to seem condescending. I just worry about you, sometimes.” 

Pyrrha doesn’t know how to respond. Her throat closes up and she tries to smile again, but it’s hard. Being forced to confront someone caring about her like this is just hard. “You don’t have to worry about me, Mrs. Arc. I really do know what I’m doing.” 

 

On the ride home Jaune says suddenly, “Well, that was easier than I thought.” 

“Your parents are great,” Pyrrha agrees. “Really great. The best.” 

“Yeah, I’m lucky. I was worried but they just want me to be happy, and I’m grateful for that. And it helps that you’re so wonderful yourself and that they like you more than they like me.” 

Pyrrha gasps. “Your parents do _not_ like me more than they like you. How could you say that?” 

“Only a little,” Jaune laughs. “I can’t blame them, you’re pretty great.” 

“Thanks,” Pyrrha says, and then she sighs. “Now here comes the hard part. My mothers.” 

 

Pyrrha dreads dinner with her mothers all week. First her mother complains about the hour and a half drive to come down, even though Pyrrha told her that she and Jaune would drive up for dinner if necessary. Then she vetoes Pyrrha’s choice of restaurant, and ends up picking somewhere more expensive, even though she knows that Jaune is a school teacher and can’t exactly afford sixty dollar a plate dinners. Her mom does nothing to stop this, just texting Pyrrha apologetically, like she knows that Pyrrha is pulling her hair out. 

When Friday finally comes around, Jaune comes to pick Pyrrha up after work. He’s wearing a sports coat, and khakis, and his hair is slicked up. “You look nice,” Pyrrha tells him, because he does, but also because she needs to focus on something other than the impending dinner. Her mother text her five minutes before Jaune arrived to tell her that they were already waiting at the restaurant. 

“Thanks. So do you. I don’t think I’ve seen you this dressed up since that charity ball I was your plus one two five years ago.” 

“Is it too much?” Pyrrha pulls down the sun visor to look at herself again, just to check. 

“What? No. You look beautiful, is what I’m saying.” 

Pyrrha looks at Jaune, but he’s focused on the road. Her heart is pounding for so many different reasons right now that she can’t really think straight, or decide what to settle on. “Thank you,” she says finally. 

Her mothers are already seated when Jaune and Pyrrha arrive, even though Pyrrha specifically asked for them not to do this. There’s an assortment of bread on the table already, with three different flavored butters, and honey. Pyrrha doesn’t feel like she can eat anything, but Jaune picks up a piece of bread, as if he’s not worried at all. Pyrrha’s mom smiles at him. Pyrrha’s mother does not, but then again, she’s never really liked Jaune. Or approved of him. Or something. 

She’s never said, but Pyrrha knows. 

They order, their waitress only a little worse for the wear by the time they’re done with that, when Pyrrha’s mother starts. “You said you had something to tell us? So tell us.” 

“Daphne,” Pyrrha’s mom says softly. “Don’t push.” 

“We drove all the way here, Helen. Pyrrha made it seem like a big deal, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to know why there’s a big to do.” 

“It is a big deal,” Pyrrha says. “It’s something...life changing for me.” 

“Life changing.” Pyrrha’s mother squints. “Then why is he here?” She gestures at Jaune, who visibly wilts under her gaze. 

“Jaune’s here because he’s a part of it.” 

“Oh God, you’re pregnant. Helen, I told you, I _told_ you that was what was going on here.” She whirls to Jaune. “You had better do right by my daughter and give her every cent of child support that she deserves or else you can be sure I’m taking your ass straight to court.” 

“No! God, no. Mother leave him alone. I’m not pregnant! We’re getting married.”

“Married?”

“Congratulations,” Pyrrha’s mom says, smiling softly at them both. She places her hand over Pyrrha’s mother’s on the table. “That seems a bit sudden, but this seems like a wonderful thing. When is the wedding?”

“A month?” Pyrrha’s mother looks between Pyrrha and Jaune. Jaune looks like he wants to sink through the floor and into the earth. Pyrrha wants to join him. “Since when were you two in a relationship? When did this even happen? When did you even get engaged, and why did you not tell us? Pyrrha?” 

“I didn’t tell you we were in a relationship, mother, because we’re not in a relationship. We’re getting married for other reasons, and none of them have to do with an oncoming child.” 

“Then why?” Pyrrha’s mom asks, and her softness is what has Pyrrha spilling her guts. 

“Because it’s what we want. It’s what _I_ want.” 

“Pyrrha, I thought I raised you better than this,” Pyrrha’s mother begins, and she’s not loud now. Her voice is low, and Pyrrha knows from prior experience that this is worse. “You’re being selfish. Think about this poor boy, and what he wants. You say you’re not having a child now, but what if you want one later? What if he wants one later? What if he wants things you can’t give him, because you’re not romantically involved? This is pure foolishness.” 

“Pyrrha is great,” Jaune says suddenly, the first time he’s really had the floor all night. This time he doesn’t back down from Pyrrha’s mother’s fierce stare. “She’s great and she _wants_ to marry me, and I want to marry her. Why can’t you just be happy for her?” He backs down almost as soon as he came out, but Pyrrha knows that he’s right. 

“And do you think you could make her happy?” Pyrrha’s mother asks. There’s a particular emphasis on _you_. It makes Pyrrha’s blood boil. 

She doesn’t need him for this, but she’s glad he’s here anyway when she says, “You don’t get to sit here and judge my life. You’re not my coach anymore, and I am an adult who can make my own decisions. Goodbye mom, mother. You can call me when you’re done berating me for things I do in my own life.” 

Pyrrha gets up to leave, not realizing that Jaune is right behind her until she’s already out the door. 

Jaune says nothing, but opens his arms wide for Pyrrha to get folded into. She goes into them easily, so easily, too easily. “Am I being selfish?” she asks, her voice a little muffled from the curve of Jaune’s shoulder. He’s such a good hugger. He definitely got that from both his parents. “Am I being selfish, taking things away from you? I’d never want to do that.” 

“Pyrrha Nikos,” Jaune starts, his chest expanding beneath her hand, “You are the least selfish person that I’ve ever met. And even if it was selfish, even if you were being selfish towards me, it would be okay. Being selfish isn’t always a bad thing, you know. It’s not the end of the world. If you have to be selfish about one thing in your life, let it be me, okay? I can take it.” 

“Thank you,” Pyrrha says, and has to actively try her best not to cry. She scrunches up her face one last time before sighing and pulling away from Jaune. “I’m going to go pay the bill for our table and then we can leave,” she says finally. 

Jaune just shakes his head. “Okay, I’ll be waiting in the car. How does McDonald’s sound? I think there’s a two-for-one McFlurry special going on right now. I’ll pay.” 

Pyrrha smiles, and it’s shaky and soggy, but real. “That sounds perfect,” she says, and goes to do the right thing before joining Jaune outside again.


	5. of dresses and golden boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank god this fic is almost over

Someone told Weiss Schnee that Pyrrha didn’t have a wedding dress. 

She doesn’t know who it was for sure, but she suspects that it was Yang, because Nora and Yang talk, and their entire friend group talks, and so now here Pyrrha is, in a huge white dress, standing in front of a mirror. Because apparently, just picking something “off the rack” was completely unacceptable. 

Weiss and Blake are behind her, Blake reading a huge, thick book. Weiss is harassing their bridal assistance to the point where she is now wilted and her smile looks strained. “No, please don’t misunderstand me,” Weiss is saying, “I just don’t think pearls directly on the dress is what we need from here.” 

“Weiss, leave her alone.” Blake doesn’t look up from her book, just idly turns a page instead. “Just let her do her job.” 

“This is a high end boutique,” Weiss says, sound snippy. “Considering how much we’re going to pay here we should be able to ask for service!” 

“You sound like a baby boomer.” 

“I do not sound like a baby boomer! I said please! Would a baby boomer say please?”

“...Point.” Blake sighs, and looks up, finally. “Pyrrha is tall enough that she can pull off whatever she wants, but I personally don’t like anything too...whatever that is. So no. That’s not going to work. Nothing with tulle is going to work for me.” 

“That’s a good point, actually,” Weiss says, sounding surprised. “Pyrrha? Do you have a preference for a silhouette?” 

“I agree with Blake, I don’t like...poof.” Pyrrha smiles apologetically at the assistant, who looks as though she’s ready to bolt through the door. “I do like lace, though.” 

“I have a few dresses in mind that would be perfect for you,” their assistant says, and almost falls flat on her face to get out of the room. 

Blake adjusts so her legs are hanging over the arm of the chair. Weiss rolls her eyes at her, and huffs, but doesn’t say anything else. Sometimes, Pyrrha wonders idly how they are friends, but she also knows that they’re the very best friends. Have been for years. It’s just so different from the way she and Nora and Jaune and Ren are. 

When the assistant comes back Weiss zeroes in on her. Pyrrha just smiles at her again and goes to put on her dresses in the dressing room. She really doesn’t care about dresses. She doesn’t care about this but so much of this wedding matters to other people, and Pyrrha wants to make other people happy, because it makes other people happy. So she puts on these dresses and parades around in them. 

Ruby was obsessed with TLC wedding shows at one point, so Pyrrha has watched plenty of them, but she always thought they were exaggerating when they talked about finding The Dress. White is white and lace is lace and all wedding dresses look the same, basically, in the end. Pyrrha knows this and yet, when she walks out in the last dress that the assistant had pulled for her, there’s something different about this dress. It might be The Dress. 

“Wow,” Weiss says. Blake even looks up from her book and nods, once. 

The assistant seems genuinely pleased since the first time she walked in here with them. “You look beautiful,” she says. 

Pyrrha touches the white silk of the long skirt, which trails all the way to the floor. She imagines herself wearing strings of pearls, pearls at her ears and wrist, her hair done up. She imagines looking up and seeing Jaune look at her, really _see_ her, wearing something like this. 

“It’s this one,” she says finally. “This is the one.” 

 

Afterward Weiss takes them all out for coffee. Blake makes Weiss pay for her trenta chai tea out of spite. They leave the dress at the boutique to get altered to fit Pyrrha specifically, but Pyrrha can’t wait until it’s hanging in her closet. “This was the last thing that you needed to get before the wedding, right?” 

“Yes,” Pyrrha says, an uncomfortable fluttering in her stomach that’s been popping up every time the wedding has been brought up. Which, since it’s two weeks away, has been often. She and Jaune are just going to go upstate to a cabin for the weekend for their honeymoon, deciding to take a real one during Jaune’s winter break, after they’ve saved up a little more money. That had been the real last thing they had planned. Everything else was present and accounted for. “Jaune has done such a good job planning all of this.” 

“Well, it’s nice that he can put his talents to good use,” Weiss says delicately. Beside her Blake snorts, but doesn’t respond other than that. 

“Are you excited for the wedding?” Blake asks suddenly. 

“As long as Jaune doesn’t run away screaming, I think it will be okay,” Pyrrha says. Weiss and Blake chuckle, but Pyrrha really means it. As long as Jaune is there, everything will really be okay. She hopes. 

 

Pyrrha’s mother calls one day while she’s at work. Pyrrha looks down from her computer to her phone and sees her mother’s name and contact photo--a picture of their entire family at a family vacation to Corfus Island a few years ago--and almost doesn’t pick up. But she does pick up, because this is her mother, and she knows that she’s going to pick up. There was no question of it, not really. 

“Pyrrha,” her mother says, voice sharp and clipped, before Pyrrha can so much as say hello. Pyrrha wonders if her mom is behind her mother, listening to all of this, gently prodding for it to happen at all. Probably. 

“Yes, mother?” 

“Your mom and I still haven’t received an invitation. Why?” 

“I didn’t think you’d want one,” Pyrrha tells her honestly. 

“Of course we do, we’re your parents. We...I...was just worried. But you can’t blame me, Pyrrha, this boy is-” 

“He’s what, mother?” 

“He’s just not who I would have thought you would have ended up with, is all. But if you love him...or at least like him enough to marry him, then that’s your decision. And I respect that. And I want to support you on your big day.” 

Pyrrha lets out a breath that she didn’t know she had been holding. “Okay,” she says finally. “I’ll send you an invitation in the mail then.” She gives her mother the information over the phone too, listens as her mother writes it down on the pad of paper that Pyrrha knows her mothers leave beside the phone at home. 

“Pyrrha,” her mother says, after they’ve talked a little bit more. 

“Yes?” Pyrrha doesn’t know why this makes her nervous. Something about her mother just always manages to make her nervous. It’s not a good feeling. She knows she shouldn’t feel like this, but she does. 

“I love you, you know that, right? I love you, no matter what.” 

“I know,” Pyrrha says. “I know.” 

 

Pyrrha had told Nora no surprise bachelorette parties, or any at all, but of course Nora doesn’t listen. This is how Pyrrha finds herself blindfolded in the front seat of Nora’s car, listening as Weiss and Ruby scream in the background as Pyrrha hurtles into oncoming traffic and is almost hit by a huge truck. 

“Sorry,” Nora says, not sounding sorry at all. She is absolutely not sorry. Pyrrha’s heart, which leapt to her throat through all of this, can feel it. 

“Why did you insist we ride with them?” Weiss hisses to Ruby. Weiss has never been able to whisper. “We could have ridden with your sister but nooooo. So now here we are. We are going to die.” 

“Uh, sorry?” Ruby says. “But Yang was riding her bike anyway-” 

“Sharing a motorcycle with four people would have been better than this.” 

“Oh, _relax_ ,” Nora says. “Pyrrha has lived through worse than this, haven’t you Pyrrha?” 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Pyrrha says. “And I wasn’t even blindfolded when it happened.” 

“See?” Nora sounds pleased. “Now relax you two. We’re almost at the bar.” Nora hits the accelerator. The car screeches a little. Weiss shrieks. Ruby is probably holding her girlfriend’s hand, for moral support if nothing else. Pyrrha knows they’re not going to die. Most likely.

 

The bar has turned into a glitter explosion, which Pyrrha knows she probably should have expected. Nora has planned this entire thing by herself, after all. Blake and Yang are waiting for them, and Yang comes up to hug Pyrrha when she sees them walk in. 

“So, me and Blake ordered you a stripper.” Yang grins. 

“You really didn’t need to do that,” Pyrrha says. 

“No, trust me, it’s going to be fun. Blake, you can text him that we’re ready for him.” 

“Oh, God,” Pyrrha covers her eyes with her hands while Nora cackles from behind her. 

When it seems like nothing earth shattering is going to happen, Blake sipping on a margarita while looking at her phone, Pyrrha goes to the bar to order her drink. _That’s_ when Sun, painted all over in gold body paint, decides to jump on top of the bar, making Pyrrha take a step back. 

“I’m here to give you a good time,” Sun grins, and it’s even brighter thanks to all the gold paint. Seriously, it’s even on his hair. Pyrrha wonders whose idea it was. 

“Get it?” Yang asks. “Because his name’s Sun and he’s shaped like a Greek god, so he’s all gold.” 

“Are you going to dance?” Ruby asks. 

“No, I’m just really here to have a good time. Let me buy you a drink, bride-to-be.” He gives Pyrrha his best smile and orders her a Cosmo. 

Pyrrha is plied with drinks all night, which really isn’t that surprising. What _is_ surprising is that she chooses to drink all of them. The wedding is in two days. She deserves this. She got the entire week off from her boss, as a bonus, just because it’s her big day. 

She’s getting married to someone whose feelings she doesn’t really understand in two days. She’s getting married to someone that she’s pretty sure she’s in love with, again, just like college, in two days. She deserves all these drinks. She deserves all this time with her friends. She really does. 

Jaune is probably having his bachelor party right now. Nora didn’t say, but since Ren isn’t here, she imagines that he is. She also imagines that he and Ren didn’t end up going to a bar to celebrate, since Jaune has to teach tomorrow, so he’s probably home at midnight. 

Nora sees her reaching for her phone. “Oh, no,” Nora says. “No. I don’t know who you’re about to drunk dial, but you should probably give me your phone. Or give Ruby your phone. Ruby is sober. Yang is half sober. You should give one of them your phone.” 

“No, I’m going to be okay,” Pyrrha tells her. “The phone call won’t take long.” 

Nora just gives her a long look, but she’s drunk by this point too, and swaying a little. “Okay,” Nora says finally, giving Pyrrha a kiss on the forehead. “Just stay safe, okay? Okay?” 

“Okay,” Pyrrha says, and calls the number of the person that she feels safest with. 

“Pyrrha?” Jaune says when he answers his phone. He sounds groggy and confused, and Pyrrha realizes that he probably was asleep. “Pyrrha?” Jaune repeats, when she doesn’t say anything. “This is you, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, sorry,” Pyrrha says. She walks into the alley next to the bar, where it’s a little quieter. ”Did I wake you up?” 

“No, it’s fine,” Jaune tells her, and then promptly yawns. “Sorry. I’m awake now. What’s up?” 

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” Pyrrha says. “Nora took me to a bar. For my bachelorette party.” 

“That sounds fun. Ren and I just stayed in and watched _The Godfather_ and ate pizza. The fancy kind. Extra cheese and everything.” 

“Sounds wild,” Pyrrha tells him, and Jaune laughs. 

“Yeah, it was. A great last night of freedom, and all that other stereotypical garbage that I’m supposed to say.” 

“Yeah.” Pyrrha sighs. “Jaune, you want to marry me, right?” 

“Yes, of course,” Jaune says. “I’ve told you that. I haven’t changed my mind. I’m not going to change my mind. Have you changed your mind?” 

“No, of course not!” Pyrrha almost yells. Someone passing by on the sidewalk turns to look at her. Pyrrha turns away from them, almost embarrassed. “Just...are you ready?” 

Jaune’s quiet for a long time. Pyrrha checks to make sure that her phone hasn’t cut off from low battery when Jaune says, “Yeah, I think so. I know so. The wedding is the day after tomorrow. Or well, after today, I guess. I’m not going to change my mind between now and then, not about you, Pyrrha. Are you ready?” 

Pyrrha sighs. “I didn’t know for sure, but after listening to you...I’ll always be sure, when it’s with you. Sometimes...sometimes I feel like I’ve been waiting forever. And now it’s here, and it almost doesn’t feel real, you know?” 

“Yeah, I know. I’m going to go to back to bed now though, Pyrrha, because I have work tomorrow. Is that okay with you? Is someone there with you right now or do I need to come pick you up?” 

“No, I’m fine. Thank you, Jaune. For everything.” When Pyrrha finally hangs up, after Jaune says his goodbyes, she sighs and looks up. Her wedding is in exactly one day. 

She thinks she’s ready.


	6. of here comes the bride & the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just want to say that i am so fucking glad that i finally finished this fic you have no idea. 
> 
> thank you so much to mori and libby for waiting for this fic for so long and helping me finish it. libby, i literally would not have finished this without you, i absolutely mean that. 
> 
> peace the fuck out folks it's done.

The day of the wedding creeps upon Pyrrha suddenly. One day she’s waking up from her bachelorette party slightly hungover, Nora snoring gently beside her, and the next day it’s time for her wedding. 

The constant in these things, at least, is the fact that Nora is in Pyrrha’s bed for both of these things. “Okay, beautiful, it’s time to wake up. We have things to do before you can get married to Jaune and officially be off limits to the rest of the world forever.” 

Nora’s face is really, really close to Pyrrha’s. In fact, it’s all Pyrrha can see once she’s woken up a little more, finally managing to blink awake. “It’s early,” Pyrrha says, even though she’s overslept from her usual routine. 

“I know. But you have to get your hair and nails done and then have your dress fitted one more time before we can take you over to the church. Oh, and give me your phone.” Nora holds her hand out expectantly. 

Pyrrha reaches over to where it’s charging on her bedside table and hands it to Nora, who puts it in her huge pink purse. “Why?” 

“Because it’s bad luck to see or talk to the groom before the actual day of the wedding, of course! And I know you, Pyrrha. You went and called Jaune while you were drunk off your ass at your bachelorette party. You’ll definitely want to talk to him sober.” 

And Nora’s right, is the thing. All day long, all through Pyrrha getting her hair put up and her veil put into place, she wants to talk to Jaune. She wants him to reassure her for the millionth time that this is fine and that this is okay and that it’s good to want this. To be happy that it’s happening. 

She doesn’t need that, exactly, but she does want it. 

But she gets her hair done with all of her bridesmaids and when they get to the church she sees Jaune’s pick up truck, but he’s nowhere to be found. He’s probably already inside, with Ren, waiting for everything to begin, just like she is. Pyrrha wonders if he’s nervous. If he’s happy. If he tried to contact her at all. 

Probably not, she thinks. It turns out that he’s even more of a stickler on this whole wedding traditions thing than Nora is, but still, she wonders if he wanted to. 

The church is empty too, pretty and pristine and white. The church had been the one thing that Jaune’s family had requested, and Pyrrha felt like it was fair to do, even if she and her mothers were in no way religious. 

The church is beautiful, though. White and simple for the most part, except for one pretty stained glass window at the back that makes a rainbow of light shatter everywhere that the light touches. In the empty church, with no one around, Pyrrha takes it in before she goes to get dressed and ready for everything else. 

 

The church is completely full by the time Pyrrha comes out to walk herself down the aisle. She hadn’t asked either of her mothers to walk her, finding it unfair, and so she has to go it alone. When the Wedding March starts, Pyrrha can feel the butterflies in her stomach fluttering away. 

It’s only when she looks at what’s waiting for her, who’s waiting for her, Jaune dressed in his suit with the scatterings of all that rainbow glass on his face, does she start to relax. Jaune’s smiling, actually _smiling_ , and Pyrrha can feel herself smiling back, just because he is, and seeing Jaune happy has always, always made Pyrrha happy. She cares about him so much, is the thing. She cares about him so much, and that’s why she has to do this. 

For a second, she contemplates going through with it. With letting the priest tie them together, seemingly for life, for as long as they both shall live. She wants that more than anything, and yet, when it’s time for Pyrrha to say her vows, she finds herself saying, “I can’t. I can’t do this. I don’t want this,” instead of the standard _I do._

Pyrrha can hear audible gasps from the audience, and from behind her. Nora, she’s sure, is looking horrified. Ren, standing behind Jaune, certainly is. 

“Pyrr-ha?” Jaune asks, voice cracking in two, splitting the syllables of her name. “What do you mean, you don’t want this?”

“What I mean is that I don’t want to marry you like this. Not when we aren’t in love. Because you deserve so much more than a marriage of convenience, Jaune. You deserve the whole world. You deserve to marry someone because you love them and they love you and you want to spend the rest of your life with them. You deserve to have children and to grow old with them, knowing that they love you and only you. And I love you too much-” Here Pyrrha has to take a deep breath, has to compose herself. “I love you too much to let you marry me, not like this. Not without anything between us. I’m sorry.” 

The pastor had told them to clasp hands as they said their vows, and that was how Pyrrha felt the way Jaune squeeze her hands, his grip firm, and sure, and a little desperate. “When you say you love me,” he starts, and squeezes her hands again. Pyrrha lets herself squeeze back, a silent _I’m here with you_ even though Pyrrha doesn’t know how much longer she really will be. Jaune clears his throat. His eyes are a little shiny. “When you say you love me, do you mean that you love me as a friend, or that you’re in love with me, because I’ve gotta say, I-” 

Jaune finally stops talking when Pyrrha leans over and kisses him. She kisses him silent, kisses him until he kisses her back. “I’m in love with you,” Pyrrha finds herself having the bravery to say. “I’m in love with you and if we’re going to get married I want us to date first, so that we know that he have a stable foundation to stand on when and if we continue forward.” 

“That’s fair,” Jaune manages to say, after a heavy silence. Pyrrha knows that every eye on the church is on them when Jaune turns and says, “Sorry everyone, the wedding is cancelled, because I want to start dating my fiance. The reception’s already paid for, so, who wants to go party? I think I need a drink.” 

Pyrrha is pretty sure she hears Sun whoop when everyone else claps and starts to get up. Jaune looks back at Pyrrha and takes her hand again. “Come on,” he says quietly, just for the two of them. “Let’s go make our first date one of the best ones ever.” 

“Okay,” Pyrrha says, and they walk down the aisle, hand in hand, not married, but Pyrrha definitely has hope. 

 

“Well,” Ren says, coming to sit down beside Pyrrha. Jaune is across the room talking to Nora and Yang, looking mildly terrified and stressed, the way he always does whenever those two get together. Pyrrha watches him and drinks a sip of her punch, feeling fond, “I must say I never expected it to end like that.” 

“Me neither,” Pyrrha admits. “But I realized that I needed that. That it was for the best.” 

“I agree,” Ren tells her. “But I really do think that I’ve heard worse ideas than you and Jaune. I think you two are going to make each other really happy, and I’m happy for both of you.” 

“Thank you. It means a lot to me to hear you say that.” 

“Nora’s going to pretend to be upset about this, but I know she’s actually thrilled. She’s wanted the two of you to get together for a long time. Since college, if I remember right.” 

“Really?” 

Ren nods. “Really. I’m going to go find her now, actually, but congratulations again, Pyrrha, on not getting married.” 

Pyrrha laughs a little. “Thank you, Ren. Glad you could make it to my not wedding.” 

Jaune comes and finds her once Ren has literally picked Nora up and thrown Nora over his shoulder. Pyrrha would be surprised and alarmed if it was anyone but the two of them, but knowing Ren and Nora, they probably planned how the night was going to end up for them both. Whether or not Jaune and Pyrrha got married, it seems. 

Jaune comes back over to sit with her. “So, I was thinking about our honeymoon plans,” he says, referring to their trip to Cape Cod. They were going to stay there for the weekend in an adorable bed and breakfast before coming back home, since Jaune couldn’t afford to miss more work than that. During his Winter Break, though, they had been planning something much more extensive, “and I was wondering if you, ah, still wanted to go? No pressure, or anything, I just think that it would really-”

Pyrrha reaches over and squeezes Jaune’s hand, relishing in the fact that she can do that now. “I want to,” she tells him, and absolutely means it. “I can’t wait to spend this weekend with you. Everything else, well, we can take it slow.” 

“I’ll drink to that,” Jaune says, smiling at her, and lifts his plastic cup to clink it against hers. “To taking it slow.” 

“To taking it slow,” Pyrrha repeats, and takes a sip, and leans on Jaune’s shoulder. The party goes on around them, and Pyrrha knows that everything is going to be okay.

 

They’re sitting on Ren and Nora’s couch when they say their vows. 

This time, Ren and Nora’s couch is blue and green plaid, since they had decided to renovate their living room. Ren had gotten his license off the internet. Nora was their only witness. 

Pyrrha is wearing a red polka dot dress that she found off the rack. Jaune has a sports coat and bowtie on. “You’re going to say yes this time, right?” Jaune whispers, leaning over to Pyrrha. 

“She’d better,” Nora practically yells. 

Pyrrha ignores her to lean in towards Jaune and presses their foreheads together. “I am,” she says. 

Ren clears his throat. “Now then. Let’s start. Dearly beloved, and by that I mean, all three of you, since you're the only ones here-” 

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to talk to me about arkos @thecivilunrest on twiter. i'm locked but accept all requests.


End file.
